


It's A Cinch!

by DixieDale



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-06 01:04:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21218009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Unexpected visitors to Stalag 13 give Hogan the opportunity for two equally tempting targets - a set of documents inside a locked briefcase, and a lovely lady just waiting to be charmed by yours truly.  The first might be a bit tricky, but the second?  For Hogan, surely that would be a cinch, a slam dunk, a sure thing, or perhaps as Carter would say, a "piece of pie".   How could he possibly fail?





	It's A Cinch!

A frantic Schultz had arrived at the door to the barracks soon after the elegant automobile had arrived in camp. 

"You must come, Colonel Hogan, soon, for a glass of schnapps and conversation. The Kommandant has a visitor, an Admiral Kirchner, who is to spend some time here, at least the day and evening, to rest before he continues his trip to Berlin to pass off those papers he says are so important. And the Kommandant says that LeBeau is to prepare a meal, and you are to join them for dinner, also, since the Admiral says he remembers the Kommandant from many years ago. But the Kommandant does not remember HIM, and wants someone else to, what is the phrase, 'take up the slack' in the conversation."

Well, the arrival of the Admiral hadn't gone unnoticed, and the explanation made in Klink's office had been heard by Hogan and his Command Crew via that coffee pot that proved such a convenience. 

Hogan made a token protest, LeBeau an even stronger one, and Schultz delivered what he felt would be the coup-de-grâce in his argument.

Coaxingly, the old sergeant offered, "and the Admiral, he has brought his daughter with him, and from what I saw, she is very pretty."

Hogan allowed himself to be convinced, and Schultz left, confident he had carried out his orders. When he left, Hogan gathered his men around.

"Alright, Kinch. Get on the radio to London and to the Underground. Find out everything you can about this Admiral Kirchner. LeBeau, you're cooking dinner; don't argue, just start figuring out the logistics. Newkirk, Carter - you'll be acting as waiters. Once everyone is in place and not likely to wander around, Newkirk, you tackle that briefcase. Take good clear pictures; I want to know what is so important in there."

They all scattered to get ready for the evening. 

Kinch knew Hogan wasn't going to be all that thrilled with his report; neither London nor Rene had any information about this Admiral Kirchner. No, the senior prisoner of war wasn't pleased, but still confident in his ability to get the job done.

"So, alright. I should still be able to string him along. LeBeau, you all set for dinner?" getting the slightly begrudging acknowledgement of "oui, mon colonel. And it is far better than I would LIKE to be feeding the filthy boche!"

Hogan ignored that; LeBeau never HAD liked the idea of cooking for the Germans, no matter how essential it was for the mission.

"Newkirk?"

"All ready, gov. Film in the camera, me fingers all limbered up; should be a cinch," the multi-talented Englishman replied. If he didn't sound overly-enthusiastic either, didn't smile at their commanding officer in response to that smile he was getting from Hogan, perhaps that was understandable.

Hogan turned to their explosives expert, a slight frown on his handsome face as he delivered his stern warning.

"Carter? No nonsense tonight. Serve the meal, don't drop anything, don't trip over anything. Don't call attention to yourself, unless you need to cover for Newkirk being out of the room, right??!" Hogan told the sheepish Carter. Well, Carter HAD made rather a shambles of the last dinner he'd served at; not even HE could dispute that.

She was lovely, the Admiral's daughter, by the picture anyway. Hogan had admired it fulsomely, if politely, and turning it over read 'Jacqueline, Age 16'.

"How long ago was this taken?" he asked, trying to be casual. 

{"Probably twenty years ago, Rob; the Admiral's no spring chicken. No sense letting your appetite get carried away. Though, she still might be worth taking a second look, even if it WAS twenty years ago."}. 

Hogan might lay out the charm for women his own age, even older, if it served a purpose, but he DID appreciate a bit younger (well, a LOT younger) woman, especially such a toothsome treat as Jacqueline Kirchner appeared to be.

"Oh, last month, right before her seventeenth birthday," Admiral Kirchner said with a broad smile. "She's lovely, isn't she, my Frost Princess?"

Well, Hogan and the Kommandant could see where he got that nickname for her. Jacqueline had hair so pale a blond as to be almost platinum, and she had a cool look that gave her an expression of confidence while not disguising her obvious youth. Her dress only emphasized their initial impression. The blue was so light as to be almost silver, the swirling pattern in the shimmering material giving her an almost ethereal air. She seemed a dainty little morsel, and certainly bore little resemblance to her father, a giant of a man with grizzled hair and a beard.

Hogan felt his groin tighten and his mouth start to water and his pulse speed up. 

{"Seventeen!"}

Jacqueline Kirchner was to join them a little later, and he found himself anticipating that more than even successfully completing the job, snatching those papers from the Admiral's briefcase. Well, of course, it would be Newkirk getting those papers, but it had been HIS plan, so he considered it six of one, half-dozen of another in the description.

Jacqueline was indeed every bit as lovely as that photograph had promised, and Hogan went out of his way to charm her. And, during a time when the Admiral and Klink had been engrossed in some odd round of 'remember when?', with Klink scrambling madly to keep up, since he STILL had no remembrance of Kirchner at all, Hogan had managed to lure the lovely young thing off into the next room. Well, Newkirk had already finished his handiwork, so the room WAS empty.

Of course, it was annoying that Carter had tried to distract him from doing just that. It had taken a snapped "enough, Carter. Go pour them another round!"

Carter had tried to calm his concern, hoping he'd interpreted that slight smile, tiny wink HE'D gotten from Jacqueline correctly. He really wasn't comfortable with her being alone with Hogan. {"Not a kid like that!"}

When they re-emerged, neither the Admiral or Klink seeming to take much notice, Jacqueline seemed calm, not overly-concerned, though trying to straighten her dress and her hair and not doing such a good job of it. 

Hogan, though? The cat who'd just devoured the canary couldn't have had a more self-satisfied look on his face. 

At least, for awhile. Soon he was drawn into the conversation between the Admiral and Klink, while the daughter tucked herself into a corner of the loveseat, gratefully taking the glass of schnapps a worried-looking Carter had handed her. 

"Are you alright, miss? Can I get you something else," he asked earnestly, if in a very low voice.

That earned him a mischievous smile. "I am fine, I promise."

She turned her eyes to the three men seated around the table, and that smile became broader, and she turned to wink at Carter, jerking her head over to draw his attention to what was happening there.

Carter inhaled sharply, and then grinned back at the girl, now knowing for sure what he'd wondered about before. Together they watched the transformation, each with more than a little satisfaction.

{"Damn! What the hell is wrong with me? I'm freezing, and no one else seems to be feeling it at all!"}. Hogan found it more than puzzling, it was downright annoying. Even the girl hadn't reached out for her shawl, her arms covered only in the light material of her silvery-blue dress.

Soon Klink glanced up, and his mouth dropped open at the sight of his senior prisoner of war sitting there, dark hair turning silver, matching his eyebrows perfectly. Even the rim of his jaw had beads of a silver lining, and his uniform! 

"Hogan? Hogan, what on earth?" Klink exclaimed, only to watch in dismay as the man closed his eyes and toppled out of his chair, to sprawl in an undignified heap on the floor.

"Well, we'll leave you to take care of him, whatever his ailment might be," the Admiral said, shaking his head in disapproval. "You need to take better care of your prisoners, Wilhelm."

The Admiral swept his daughter out before him, and they were gone.

Klink hurried to bring the schnapps bottle, kneeling beside Hogan. With Newkirk and Carter's help, he tipped a portion down Hogan's throat, getting a strangled sputter from the prone officer.

"Quick, bring Sergeant Wilson," Klink shouted to Schultz who was watching with his mouth hanging open and his eyes about to pop out of his head. Well, the American officer had seemingly gone grey overnight, though perhaps not. Perhaps it was just the frost that now covered him, head to toe, turning even his uniform to a silvery-grey.

They stripped him, rubbing him down with dry towels to remove the frost that had accummulated even on his skin, covering his entire body. His groin area had been particularly affected, even to the point of small icicles dangling from where no man was interested in having icicles.

It was Carter who had his usual oddball explanation. "Well, I guess the Colonel just maybe went too far this time. I've heard she's kinda like that, you know," he'd told them with his usual innocent, rather clueless look.

"W'at are you talking about, Andrew?" Newkirk demanded.

"Well, from the way my grandfather told the story, if you approach her right, and if she really likes you, she might, well," and the young man blushed, gave them a sheepish grin, "you know, let you kiss her or something. But if you got too fresh, she'd get a little ticked off. And if you really got out of hand, he said she had her own way of getting back at you. And this looks pretty much like what he said she would do."

Newkirk rolled his eyes. He'd had enough experience with Andrew, with stories about Andrew's grandfather, the medicine man, (though the OTHER grandfather seemed to have his share of odd stories too), that he knew better than to ask any more questions, at least not right then.

Klink, on the other hand, just wasn't that smart.

"Who, Sergeant? Who on earth are you talking about?"

Andrew blinked those fawn-like eyes at the other men, Newkirk wincing in anticipation, Klink and Schultz hanging on his every word.

"Why, just like the Admiral told you. The Frost Princess. Of course, we had other names for them, and from the books I've read, so do a lot of people. At least for him."

He turned to trying to tip a little more from that glass down Hogan's throat, making sure to hide that tiny grin, that gleam in his eyes from the other men standing watching.

"Carrrrtteerr!" Klink moaned. "WHO??!"

Andrew looked at him, blinking as if totally unable to figure out what they hadn't understood the first time.

"Why, Old Man Winter. You know, Jack Frost. It's kinda neat, don't you think, with his daughter carrying on the family business? I mean, back home, you'd see lots of signs, 'Miller and Son', or 'Morton and Sons'. I don't think I ever saw a sign like 'Miller and Daughter', but I don't see any reason why it SHOULDN'T be. Especially when the daughter takes after her father so much. Boy, she sure was pretty, wasn't she? Just like a Frost Princess should look!"

He ignored the dropped jaws on the men and shook his head at the recumbent, though now conscious Hogan, who was just beginning to melt the frost from his eyebrows, though those icicles were still festooning his netherparts.

"Boy, guess the Colonel sure picked the wrong woman to get cozy with this time! They actually ARE blue! I always figured that was just a saying, you know??! Well, it could have been worse," he said, nodding wisely. 

"Andrew, 'e's got bloody icicles 'anging off 'im," Newkirk said with some disgust. "Just 'ow could it 'ave been worse?"

Andrew gave them all a look of total sincere innocence. "Well, looks like only the icicles are starting to drop off; that wasn't always the case, according to Grandfather. Sometimes a whole bunch of OTHER stuff dropped off too!"

He made sure not to react to the look of sheer horror on everyone's face, or of Hogan's hand making a quick survey of those particular parts, just to make sure everything was still intact. 

Well, Andrew seen the most recent bruises, on Hilda AND on Newkirk, and HE hadn't appreciated the sight either, not one little bit.

The car melted into nothingness a hundred yards from the gate, and the two stood there in the swirling snow and ice particles.

"And did you find the evening as amusing as you thought you would, daughter?" Jack had asked the serenely smiling young woman standing beside him. 

He'd not quarrelled with her request that they 'drop in on' the Kommandanture at Stalag 13, nor the role he was to play. He had rather enjoyed pretending to be an Admiral, in fact. And he knew Jackie ALWAYS had a reason for what she did, unlike him, who frequently operated totally on a whim.

"Oh, yes, papa. Quite amusing. Such an odd assortment, you know. I felt quite the kinship with the fat sergeant, the one who makes toys; I have the feeling he is going to make a Jack Frost doll and a Frost Princess, too, when he gets his toy shop back. And there was a kinship with the smaller man, Andrew, as well, the one with so much mischief inside him. 

"The darker one, not Hogan, the other waiter? Andrew's friend? I took a good look inside. He's taken bruises as well. I decided, between him and Hilda, Hogan REALLY deserved a good lesson. Not that he'll probably learn anything from it; he seems the sort to think he can do just about anything he wants, you know, and everyone's just supposed to smile and accept it. What is that mortal phrase, 'just get over it'? I was really tempted to just, well, rid him of the temptation, but you made me promise not to do that any more, unless I just couldn't help myself.

"It IS a pity my friend Hilda wasn't there, though. I think she would have found it all very amusing, even gratifying. He's not very nice to her, you know, papa. She has bruises sometimes; I've seen them when she goes out walking, and when I met her last week, she'd been crying! I'll have to be sure to tell her about tonight the next time I see her. ALL the details!"

Jack Frost looked at his daughter with some amusement. That long-standing friendship between his Jacqueline and the mortal girl Hilda had always puzzled him more than a little. He certainly had never had the inclination to make friends in this realm. 

Still, the friendship had lasted, strong and secure, since Hilda had been lost in the ice storm when she was scarcely kneehigh, and he saw no reason to interfere. Well, his Frost Princess had few friends, and from what he had seen, neither did Hilda, so it was probably good for both of them to have each other. And if he sometimes thought it was more than a friendship, he STILL saw no reason to interfere. Quite a temper she had, his Jacqueline, and he wasn't immune to icicles himself.

Oh, and those papers in that oh-so-important briefcase? Once the film was developed? It turned out to be the manuscript for a children's story, 'The Frost Princess and the Barbarian'.

"Lively little bedtime story. Maybe Schultzie might think about stocking a few copies in 'is toy store after the war. Wouldn't mind 'aving a copy of it myself," Newkirk had intoned into his cup of almost-coffee, letting the cup hide that faint smile.


End file.
